


Malachite

by Wintervention



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Age Difference, Ancient Rome, Blow Jobs, General ancient civilisation vibe, Kinda, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Shaving, Smut, mild historical inaccuracies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 00:01:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12243165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wintervention/pseuds/Wintervention
Summary: Viktor fucks his catamite in the throne room.Shamelessly historically inaccurate smut.





	Malachite

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [DomesticProwess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DomesticProwess/gifts).



Viktor leaned his head further back in to the cushion under his neck as the blade passed over his throat, the quiet scraping sound seeming to echo around the cavernous hall of marble and amber. He could hear the gushing of water from the garden’s fountains in the distance, and soft breaths near the helix of his ear. Every so often, the dog lying loyally by his feet would sigh, content to rest in the peace of the villa. The floor was bathed in a spectrum of vibrant greens, royal reds and rich purples, beaming down from the stained glass ceiling. He traced the mandala pattern with his eyes, shifting his neck slightly for a more comfortable angle.

“Stop moving- I’ll cut you,” a jaded voice spat below him.

At the sound, the guards stood by the door glanced over, ready to deal with the perceived threat. The man barely had to flick his wrist before they both turned their heads back towards the courtyard, once again pretending to be oblivious to the scene behind them.

The boy, a bright young thing from near the northernmost territories, had buried himself in Viktor’s side, lithe limbs folded in to a delicate contortion, filling the remaining space on the throne. His robe pooled at his feet, and fell around his shoulders. In his hand, he held a small blade with a handle of ivory, which he manoeuvred precisely over the other’s skin. Beside him stood a table, where numerous bottles and jars rested, all filled with mysterious concoctions. A mosaicked bowl of water shone up at him as he reached for a dry cloth to wipe the razor clean.

“Be more careful then,” Viktor replied with a smirk that was almost smug.

The boy, Yura, looked up at him with an annoyed grimace, but there was no true contempt behind it. Viktor often found himself telling the petulant child he’d be forever stuck that way should the wind have the audacity to change, but his words held no weight.

As the blade was brought to his neck once more, he reached out a hand to stroke through the younger’s golden hair, gently curled with heated tongs before the sun was given the chance to rise that morning. It was softened with sweet honey and shea, much like the fingertips that travelled the wide expanse of Viktor’s chest once the Senate had settled for the night. Yura squinted as Viktor dragged his own fingertips, rough and calloused despite the blonde’s greatest efforts, down to his lips. They were stained red with cherry wine, and he was pouting. He rested a gentle thumb on his plump bottom lip, pulling it down slightly with an amused smile. Ignoring the playful teasing of his liege, Yura brushed the razor down a final time, leaving Viktor’s face smooth and clear once more. With the warm towel, he wiped the remaining cream from his chin, massaging the skin as he passed.

Commanding hands wrapped around his wrists, bringing them to rest over the elder man’s shoulders, their cheeks pressed together. He could smell the oil of cedar dabbed behind his ears, and Yura’s own delectable scent of rose and styrax tickled Viktor’s nostrils. The towel had been thrown to the ground in surprise.

A curious touch travelled down his spine, digging under his tunic and gathering the fabric around his hips.

As though she knew what was about to happen, the dog stood and trotted off to find the kitchens.

“Come here, kitten,” Viktor murmured, hands kneading the soft flesh of the youth’s backside as he buried his nose in to a willowy shoulder.

Yura leaned back, pushing his hands against Viktor’s chest to create distance between them.

“I’m not your pleasure slave,” he growled, blushing as his eyes flicked over to where the guards stood- not facing the pair, but no doubt sniggering between themselves. “What happened to your harem?”

The group of concubines had been a gift, of sorts, inherited from a previous ruler. Viktor hadn’t been within five metres of the women since ascending to power, yet it seemed to delight the boy to bring it up. He’d always imagined it as a test, that Yura was making sure he wouldn’t be left for some lowly slut, though he seemed happy enough to refuse the man’s amorous displays as it pleased him.

“Why should I settle for them when I have such a delight right here in my lap?” he answered, hooking a finger under the band of metal encircling his consort’s neck. The thin chains decorating his body rattled as the boy was pulled closer.

“Perhaps you should send me there then. Do what’s expected of a king,”

“Maybe- I would, if you weren’t so good at trimming my nails,”

“ _Vain prick_ ,” the blonde hissed.

“Now now, there’s no need to be a brat, kitten. You were so eager earlier,”

“They will hear us,” he whispered, in a final, half-arsed effort to move the scene to the privacy of the cubicula.

Despite his protests, he couldn’t help but purr as Viktor pressed his lips passionately to Yura’s own, seemingly starved of touch since their tryst the night previous. The boy was spoiled- and if he were caught in the right mood, he wouldn’t be shy to admit it.

He kissed back, just as hungrily.

Eyes screwed shut in pampered bliss, Yura didn’t see Viktor reach over to the table to pick up a jar of scented olive oil. He gasped, but didn’t falter, as a slicked finger reached down to press against his hole. A solid finger slid in gently, and he almost congratulated Viktor on his patience.

Their tongues crashed together as Viktor stretched the boy open, soaking his hand in more oil before adding a second finger, then a third, stroking his inner walls with a tender touch. The delicious moans of his beloved made his head swim, and become foggy with lust. His brow had grown warm with want and desperation, and his cock was rapidly growing stiff.

He bit down on Yura’s lip as the boy threw a leg over his body, hands reaching down to push his tunic out of the way. Tasting a drop of sweet blood on his tongue, his eyes flickered open, to find the boy’s own just barely inches away. They were wide, shining a vibrant malachite against his milky skin. He was bathed in the reflection of the coloured lights, his sheer robe slipping even further down to expose his soft chest.

Viktor kept a firm grip around the gilded collar with one hand, the other travelling down to play with his dusty pink nipples. They rested high on his chest with the youthful fat he was so desperate to lose, hard and just as hungry for attention as the rest of him. He bucked his hips up in to Yura’s hands as they wrapped delicately around his member, wet with the oil he’d scooped from the inside of his thighs. Both of their moans grew louder, a cacophony of lust and anticipation that bounced between marble pillars and tiled walls. The boy no longer seemed to care about being heard.

He moaned the elder’s name, voice just as loose and sloppy as his twitching hole, and Viktor could no longer find it within him to be gentle. A forceful shiver ran down his spine as he thrust forward to grasp Yura’s slight hips, guiding them closer to where his cock stood proudly, red and throbbing lewdly with desire.

Yura slammed down, the leathery hands on his body useless as an animalistic want clouded his mind. His behind swallowed the member in one swift movement, slick with the oil and stretched from warming the man’s bed most nights. In a strange way, he missed the nights when his eyes would well up with tears as his backside was stretched tight. He moaned his praises like the filthiest street whore, throwing his head back and baring his neck for Viktor to rest his cheek against. His hands scrambled to steady his frail frame, as the tips of his hair draped over the elder’s thighs.

Viktor’s hands, clenched in pleasure, carved crescent shapes in the blonde’s pelvis- another mark of ownership to join fading bruises, memoirs of nights spent in each other’s embrace. They were red, like the blood that had begun to drip down Yura’s chin. His thrusts grew stronger, more enthusiastic as the fiery warmth in his veins spread throughout his body.

“Please,” Yura panted, bouncing on Viktor’s cock.

“Please what?”

“Please… _Please_ ,” Overcome with infatuation, Yura struggled to form any other word.

On any other night, Viktor would mark his cheek with a red print of his palm, but like the boy he was too far in to a haze of sex to even lift his hand from his rotund arse. Oh, but how he loved to hear him beg. He leaned back, listening to the boy plead for a long moment before reaching to fondle his small, straining prick.

White light exploded before Yura’s eyes, and he began to feel lightheaded as a thumb circled the head of his penis. He could feel himself swaying in Viktor’s lap, as the man’s cock pressed against his prostate. He grabbed the arm of the chair, fingers wrapping desperately around the carved gold to hold himself upright as the press of Viktor’s skin against his own slowed to powerful thrusts, then stopped suddenly. Yura’s walls clamped down on his cock as he threw his head down with a heavy breath.

Both cried out with release, Yura painting both of their stomachs with seed as Viktor filled him with his own. Barely even able to lift his head from where it hung, Viktor lifted the boy by his armpits, his prick slipping out with a satisfying pop. He reached forward to scoop the cum dripping from between Yura’s legs, holding his fingers out for him to clean. The blonde wrapped his mouth around the digits, salty flavour coating his tongue as he moved it between them. Once clean, Viktor moved to collect the fluid spread over his stomach, slapping it on to his half-hard penis.

Hooking his hand back under the boy’s collar, he pulled gently to bring Yura’s face down to his shaved pubis. Yura wrapped his swollen lips around him, lazily sucking to clean his master. He gagged and spluttered as his head was pushed further down, digging one hand in to Viktor’s thigh, and using the other to cup his balls. His prick grew soft in his mouth, as both their heart rates slowed and their breathing steadied.

“ _Good boy_ ,” Viktor smiled, eyelids drooping as he petted the golden hair splayed out before him.

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to say a massive thank you to Potya and Dom for not only being amazing writers, but also for being so lovely and supportive. 
> 
> Not sure why I wanted to say that alongside this, mind.


End file.
